Flannigan the Magnificent and his Monstrous Nightmare Pokee
by DodgerNYC
Summary: Gather around the fire, for I shall tell you the tale of a renegade Viking and his friendship with a Monstrous Nightmare. Flannigan and Pokee are just a man and his dragon against the world, stealing fish from the villagers who are busy settling the Isle of Berk, but maybe dragons and people weren't meant to live together. Based solely on the movies, not the books.


Flannigan the Magnificent and his Monstrous Nightmare Pokee

Gather around the fire, my worn and weary friends. Kick your feet back, relax, and please, do try the lutefisk – I made it myself. Listen well, for I shall tell you the tale of a renegade Viking and his improbable, and rather impossible, friendship with one of the most dangerous and terrifying dragons known to mankind.

Well, okay, it wasn't a Bewilderbeast or a Red Death or – Odin forbid – a Night Fury. Nothing super cool like that, no, but it was a very frightening dragon all the same. This horrific, fiery abomination was... a Monstrous Nightmare. While the Nightmare is normally a powerful and aggressive beast, this particular dragon was a little different. Then again, the Viking was a little different himself. I'm sure you've heard of the name Flannigan the Magnificent.

What do you mean, you _haven't_? Well, most Vikings live on top of rocks, but you clearly find the underside more preferable.

Since you, for some absurd reason, have never even _heard_ of Flannigan the Magnificent, I had better start from the beginning. I mean, the very beginning. For you see, the story of Flannigan the rogue Viking began many, many years ago, way back when the Isle of Berk had just been settled and the Hairy Hooligan Tribe was still struggling to make it past the "basic foundation of a functional society" phase of village construction. Really, it was rules like "No pillaging and plundering each other's stuff" that gave them trouble.

Far away from the unruly horde of Vikings, a burly young boy with dirty ginger hair and freckles all over was keeping warm as best he could inside a damp cave on the northern face of the island. Berk happened to be in the middle of one of its famous snowstorms, and the tiny fire he'd hobbled together was beginning to flicker out. The boy shivered.

When he'd first crawled into the cave, he believed it to be uninhabited, so he was quite surprised when he heard something approaching him from behind. Its claws scraped the rocky ground, its breathes came fast and heavy, and its eyes glowed a nasty shade of yellow.

"Stay back, whatever you are!" the ginger boy cried out. "I said stay back!"

But the creature did not stay back. Slowly, carefully, it came into the light and joined the boy by the flickering fire. He was bright red with a lighter underbelly, tiny black horns on the top of his head, and leathery wings that ended in claws where his forelegs should have been.

"You're... a dragon. A baby dragon."

The dragon cocked his head and growled at him.

"Sorry, sorry! Okay, so you're not a _baby_... but you still look pretty young to me."

The dragon swished his tail and smirked at him.

"Hey! _I'm_ not a baby either, you know! I can take care of myself," the freckled boy crossed his arms and spat on the cave floor. "It's not like anyone else would."

Just then, the pathetic little fire breathed its last breath and keeled over.

"Aww, no! No, no, no!" he gasped, immediately beginning to shake and shiver from the intense cold. Berk had to be the only place in the world where winters lasted nine months and the temperature dropped well below freezing at some point on every single one of those days.

"I'm going to freeze to death and a dragon is going to eat my corpse. How wonderful."

The young, red dragon suddenly began clawing his way towards him, and the boy realized that maybe, just maybe, dragons didn't like their meat frozen solid. As small as this dragon was, the boy was even smaller. So yeah, he was a goner.

And then, the dragon turned to the bundle of burned out twigs and leaves. He shut his eyes and contorted his face, as if he had a sneeze that just wasn't coming. Finally, the beast hacked out something that sounded like "_Po-kee_!" and coughed up a tiny cloud of fire.

Fortunately for the boy, it was enough to get the fire going again.

"You're just keeping yourself warm, aren't you?" he frowned, giving the dragon an ugly look. "You're exactly like _them_. You don't care about me. Dumb dragon."

The scarlet dragon narrowed his eyes at the boy, then opened his mouth and sucked the flames out of the fire and back to where they'd come from.

"Aaaah! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Put the fire back!" the boy began shivering violently. "Please?"

The dragon grinned deviously.

"Uh, smart dragon? Kind dragon? Um... handsome dragon?"

It was the last one that did it. With a victorious smirk, the dragon spat out another cloud of fire, making the same "_Po-kee_!" sound. The flimsy pile of twigs was instantly ignited. The beast curled up by the flames and laid his head directly in the fire. He nodded towards the boy and scooted over to make room for him in the flames.

"Err... thanks, but no thanks. I'm not exactly... fireproof."

The dragon shrugged, but gave him a look that quite clearly said the boy was missing out.

"Well, you can't just be out here by yourself. Don't you have a family?" the boy rubbed his arms. "Where are your parents?"

The flames grew a little weaker as the dragon's eyes fell.

"Yeah. Mine too," he nodded. "You know, if we're both going to be alone for the rest of our lives... we might as well be alone together."

The fire seared to life and the dragon broke into a toothy grin.

"I guess I should give you a name, huh? Hmm... what was that noise you made earlier? When you coughed up the fire? It was sort of a... _po-kee_... wasn't it? Well, that's what I'll call you! Pokee."

Okay, so if the boy had been a little bit older, he probably would've named him something really awesome like Flamethrower or Hothead. But at his age, he liked the name Pokee, so Pokee it was. And after that day, it was the only name the dragon would ever respond to.

"Oh, what's _my_ name?" the boy laughed at the curious expression on the young dragon's face. "They named me Flannigan... but I call myself Flannigan the _Magnificent_!"

Of course, Flannigan did not know what kind of dragon his new friend Pokee was – an older, more experienced Viking would have instantly recognize the bright red scales, snake-like neck, and clawed wings in place of forelegs as tell-tale signs of a Monstrous Nightmare – but really, Flannigan did not care. To him, Pokee was just Pokee.

As the years went by, the burly boy with a mess of ginger hair and a face full of freckles grew into a burly man with a mess of ginger hair and a face full of freckles, plus a scruffy red goatee. Vikings were naturally well-built, and Flannigan was no exception. His chest was enormous and hairy, and his arms were the size of tree trunks – that tends to happen when one grows up wrestling a dragon for fun.

The Vikings, who were quite preoccupied settling the island of Berk, had not taken too kindly to the rogue and his dragon.

"He's coming! Hide your fish!"

A winged beast with crimson scales and a smug man riding on his back cut across the sky, diving through the clouds towards the Viking village. The man was wearing the strangest armor the people of Berk had ever seen. It looked like it had completely rusted over, but the reddish-brown color was really more like a paint, covering the armor from his helmet to his boots.

The Vikings ran about in a mad dash to protect their food supply from the aerial raid. The people had first tried fending the man and the dragon off, but quickly learned that their pointy wooden sticks were of little use against an enormous reptile with the ungodly powers of flight and fire-breath.

"We meet again, Vikings of Berk!" Flannigan shouted, flying his dragon around them like a dog herding sheep.

"Please, just take our fish and leave us be!"

"Aligning yourself with a vicious dragon! Have you no shame?"

"Is that new armor you've got, Flannigan?"

The man flew circles around the village, pondering their questions. "Lemme see, fellas... I'll take the fish to go, none whatsoever, and yes it is. Do you like it? I built it to have certain _capabilities._"

The villagers looked up at him expectantly.

"Pokee, do the thing!"

His dragon gave the Vikings of Berk an extremely malicious grin, quite pleased to be showing off. Pokee scrunched his face up and coughed out flames, but instead of lighting the villagers' huts on fire like usual, the fire engulfed his own body. The flames spread all over the dragon's body, but he wasn't burned in the slightest.

The people watching this gasped, but not because of the Monstrous Nightmare's "Fire Jacket" ability – they had seen that before from other Nightmares who attacked the island – but because of the armor the man wore.

When the fire reached Flannigan, it instantly latched onto the reddish-brown paint that coated the man's suit of armor. The fire spread all over his armor until Flannigan the Magnificent and his Monstrous Nightmare Pokee were both ablaze.

"Bask in the glory of Flannigan the Magnificent, Master of Fire and Fish Thief Extraordinaire! I'm better than the lot of you! I am _fireproof_!"

Pokee swooped through the miserable cluster of huts the people of Berk called a village, lighting the grass on fire while Flannigan yelled, "Burn! Burn! Mwahaha!" Pokee grabbed an unguarded net of fish with his back legs, then soared away from the speechless Vikings with the fish in tow. Flannigan, of course, was still laughing maniacally.

They had flown about half a mile off shore when Flannigan stopped laughing. He realized something was wrong when his nose picked up the unmistakable smell of burning rope. Flannigan looked down and saw that the net of fish was on fire.

"Ahhh! No, no, no!" he gasped. "Pokee, turn the fire off! Turn it off!"

The dragon quickly turned off his Fire Jacket, but it did not stop the rope holding the bundle of fish from burning to ash and giving way. The fish fell from the dragon's claws and splashed into the ocean below.

"Awww, man! That was going so well with the villagers, too!" Flannigan groaned, but still reached down and patted his dragon's stomach. "At least our fire show looked really cool, and at the end of the day, that's all that matters."

The pair flew away in a trail of flames, soaring around the west coast of the island and heading back to the latest cave they'd taken up refuge in. They had been robbing the Vikings for years now, but that came with the unfortunate downside of fleeing to a new, hidden cave every time the villagers tracked them down. Luckily for them, the Isle of Berk had a great many caves.

This one wasn't nearly as roomy as they would have liked, and a fully-grown Monstrous Nightmare took up most of the space in the cave. Pokee tried to make himself as small as possible, but with little success.

"That's alright, bud. I don't need much room," Flannigan smiled and waved his hand, but when he did, he gasped in pain.

Flannigan gritted his teeth and reached up to remove his helm, his breastplate, and the rerebraces and gauntlets that covered his arms. The man's face and chest were covered in old burns and scars that had healed long ago, but his arms wore some nasty new burns. Pokee stared at his wounded body, then looked to the ground sadly.

"Hey, hey, buddy. This isn't your fault," Flannigan immediately ran to his dragon's side. "I'm just an idiot. Gotta coat the gauntlets with more paint next time."

Pokee did not look convinced.

"Okay, fine. If you're still worried, I'll make the paint better from now on. Maybe if I crushed up some more incinder root... or added more piroe leaves. Oh, and I'll need a lot more of your spit."

The dragon perked up when he heard that and happily spat a large quantity of saliva into a stone jar.

"That'll do," Flannigan grinned. Just then, his stomach rumbled loudly. "Uggh... I can't believe we lost all those fish! Why didn't I remember that rope nets burn?"

Pokee gave him a slight nudge, and when the man turned around, his dragon revealed a handful of fish he'd kept enclosed in his back claws.

"You grabbed some! Oh, thank the gods!" Flannigan gave his Monstrous Nightmare a big hug. "Who's the bestest dragon ever? _You_ are! Yes, you are!"

In a hungry frenzy, Flannigan grabbed two fish from his dragon. He gave one to Pokee and immediately tore into his own fish, but Pokee did not touch his meal. The dragon was instead glaring at the fish's head, or more specifically, its beady black eye.

"Oh, come on, you big baby! It's just a head! It can't hurt you."

Pokee glared at the fish, then at Flannigan, then back at the fish, before kicking the thing away from him.

"Uggh, fine, fine!" the man groaned and grabbed a knife from his stash of supplies. With one slice, he removed the fish's head, then threw the rest of it to his dragon. "Here. Eat."

Pokee caught the fish in his mouth, swallowed it, then kicked another fish towards Flannigan.

He muttered "Fattie" under his breath, but cut the head off the second fish and tossed it to his dragon as well.

"Save the rest of them," he shook his head when Pokee kicked a third fish at him. "I don't know when we'll be ready for another raid."

Flannigan yawned and decided to call it a night. He laid his head against Pokee's stomach, and though he tried to stifle it, his stomach rumbled once again.

"Wonder what it would be like... living with other people. Never going hungry, never being on the run," he mumbled as he drifted off to sleep. "But I don't need them, bud. All I need is my dragon."

Pokee happily licked Flannigan's face, and the man reached an arm up to pet his dragon. When he did, he cringed in pain and rubbed his burned arms.

"It's okay, Pokee... not your fault..." he whispered, only half-awake now. "Sure, dragons and people weren't meant to live together... but we're different. We'll get by."

A sad, doubtful moan resonated in Pokee's throat.

"Ahh, go to sleep already... you smart, kind, handsome dragon."

Flannigan spoke no more of living with other Vikings, for he knew how it upset Pokee. And really, it was a foolish notion. Other people would never accept him anyways, and he was perfectly fine living with his dragon. Pokee was the only company he needed.

Some days later, the pair of them were flying off the southern coast of the island, for they had been feeling a little antsy today and decided to travel somewhere for the fun of it. Flannigan wore his fireproof – well, mostly fireproof – armor, riding safely on Pokee's shoulders. It had been early morning when they'd first flown off, but now, the afternoon sun was high in the sky.

"Wonder where we are, bud," Flannigan gazed out at the coastal lands and surrounding forests. There was mist in the air, but he could make out mountains and valleys in the near distance. "Pretty far removed from Berk, that's for sure!"

Pokee flew away from the shoreline and off towards the mountainous area, then brought them down to a valley of colorful wildflowers. To Flannigan's surprise, his Monstrous Nightmare happily began munching on the scented flowers, only to be distracted by a passing butterfly.

"Enjoying yourself, you overgrown baby?" he grinned, scratching Pokee's neck.

Flannigan was about to lie down in the meadow and take a nap, but he heard the unmistakable sound of flapping wings coming towards them. The man jumped up, looked to the sky, and soiled himself.

Dozens of Monstrous Nightmares, most of them much larger than Pokee, descended upon the flowery meadow and joined his own dragon in munching on the wildflowers. There were red dragons and there were purple dragons, and even a few green dragons, but they were clearly all Nightmares. They all had wings that ended in claws instead of forelegs, their necks were long, and they all had razor-sharp fangs and horns. Yep. Definitely Nightmares.

"Pokee..." Flannigan whispered, "...don't make a sound."

His dragon must not have heard him, because Pokee immediately gave a frightened cry. When he did, the largest Nightmare cut through the crowd to stand directly before them.

Flanngian quickly jumped on his dragon, drew out his knife, and yelled, "Pokee, do the thing!" Right on cue, Pokee ignited the kerosene spit that coated his body, and he was covered in flames. The rust-colored paint on Flannigan's armor was instantly ablaze, and both man and dragon were on fire.

But if the Monstrous Nightmares were afraid, they did not show it. Instead, they cheered at Pokee's display, and the pack of dragons all ignited themselves as well.

"I... think they're _greeting_ you," Flannigan said, slack-jawed.

But then the largest Nightmare realized that they were burning the field of delicious wildflowers. He roared in protest and quickly turned off his Fire Jacket. The other Nightmares saw the burnt flowers and all joined in in turning their fire off. Soon enough, the only ones left on fire were Flannigan and Pokee. The pack of dragons all glared at them in unison, and reluctantly, Pokee turned his fire off.

The flowers were charred and blackened, which made the dragons very sad. At least, they were sad until they spotted a family a butterflies nearby. The pack of Monstrous Nightmares stampeded towards the butterflies, roaring happily.

"We should go, buddy," Flannigan patted his dragon's neck. Pokee was staring at the pack of Nightmares, who looked like they were having the time of their lives chasing the butterflies, but eventually, Pokee sighed and flew off.

"I didn't think Monstrous Nightmares lived in packs like that," Flannigan said, quite stunned. "I didn't even know you ate flowers!"

As they flew further and further away from the valley, Pokee kept glancing back and sighing. This did not go unnoticed by Flannigan.

It was going on nighttime when they finally returned to their cave. Pokee settled down towards the back, and Flannigan slowly removed his armor, gritting his teeth while doing so.

He had several new burns, all bright pink and bloodied. With those on top of his vast collection of past burns, scrapes, and scars, Flannigan's whole body looked like an overcooked steak.

Pokee moaned sadly, then reached his head out and licked Flannigan's burns. To his dismay, the man jumped back and cried out in pain, "Ahhh, Pokee! That hurts! Please, just... just go to sleep. I'll be okay."

Early the next morning, Flannigan crept out of the cave and left his dragon to sleep. Truthfully, it hurt to walk, but Flannigan needed to clear his head and wash his wounds in the river. He wore nothing but a pair of pants he'd stolen from the village, which was fine by him. His feet were calloused, and the breeze felt nice on his burned chest.

Flannigan knelt down by the water and soaked his arms, his chest, and lastly, his face. When he blinked his eyes open, though, he spotted someone a little ways off, standing on the bank of the river with a fishing net.

It was a woman, a Viking woman from the village. Her bristly black hair was cut short, and she was a bit on the stumpy side, but it wasn't her looks that intrigued him. The woman gracefully cast her net into the river, and then she waited. Flannigan had no idea how she knew when, but at just the right moment, the woman snatched the net up from the water.

She had caught quite a few fish, and she made it look so easy. All this time, Flannigan had thought the only way to get fish was to fly your dragon into a village, set yourself on fire, and demand your fill.

"Who are you?" she suddenly called out, but her eyes stayed fixed on the water. "Why are you watching me fish?"

"I'm... impressed... with your skills. I've never done this before."

"Then how do you eat? Are you a sheep herder?"

"I'm more of a... fish thief extraordinaire."

The woman's eyes left the river to glare at him, because she, of course, realized who this man was. "Flannigan the Magnificent, I presume?"

"That's me!" he smiled, but her glare did not waver. "You know, I only steal those fish because... well, because my dragon and I need to eat."

"And I'm only here because my parents and I need to eat," she threw back at him. "Why do you set fire to our village?"

"I've, um, never liked you Vikings much. And I doubt they would ever like me," he sighed, kneeling down to dip his injured arms into the water. "So I live away from them. With my dragon."

"Did your dragon do this to you?" she frowned. The woman cast her net aside and sat beside him. She tore some cloth off of her dress, soaked it in the river, and wrapped it around his chest. "Does that feel better?"

"Much," Flannigan nodded. He motioned to the burns on his body and said, "He did... some of this. We grew up together, so it was kind of inevitable... but some of them were just me being stupid. Not painting my armor well enough."

"Your so-called fireproof armor?" she laughed, washing his burned arms.

"It's a work in progress."

"The funny thing about living in our village," the woman said, her eyes turned away from him, "is that getting burned isn't a daily occurrence. Well, except when dragons attack."

"Attack... right. Dragons attack people," Flannigan brought a hand to his head, feeling rather weary all of a sudden.

"Dragons and people," the woman said, staring at his many burns, "don't live together. People live together."

"You don't go hungry? You don't have to live on the run?"

"It's not always easy," she shrugged her shoulders, "but the people in our village always look out for each other. When the winters are coldest, we take shelter together around a great fire... and we keep each other warm."

At her last line, the woman saddled up next to him. She ran her fingers through his hair and gently placed a hand on his burned chest. "Would you like to see our village? I think you'll find it's nicer than you make it out to be."

"But they're all going to hate me. I've been stealing from them for years!"

"Oh, you'll be fine," she laughed. "We've been stealing from each other since the village was founded! We Vikings aren't exactly the nicest lot. Trust me, all will be forgiven."

"Well, alright then," Flannigan smiled.

She helped him to his feet, then tore more cloth from her dress, dipped it in the cool water, and tied it around the worst burns on his arm. Flannigan took the woman's hand and followed her away from the river, through the woods, and to the Viking village on the Isle of Berk.

He did not return to the cave until late afternoon the next day. When Flannigan was about fifty feet from the cave entrance, Pokee came bounding out and pinned him to the ground. The dragon happily licked his face, but Flannigan cringed in pain. His latest burns were still not healed, and getting tackled to the ground by a fully-grown dragon did not help in the least.

Flannigan did not return Pokee's greeting. He got to his feet, groaned, and headed towards their cave. Pokee was right behind him, sniffing at the strange ointment someone had applied to the worst of Flannigan's burns.

Inside the cave, the man sat with his dragon. He could tell Pokee was upset, but Flannigan couldn't bring himself to calm him. He closed his eyes and held his dragon in a tight embrace.

"You know that I love you, don't you, bud? You know that," Flannigan whispered. "I wouldn't do anything if it weren't best for you... my smart, kind, handsome dragon."

At first light the next day, Flannigan the Magnificent packed up the few supplies he had stored in their cave and donned his fireproof armor. He had not said a word all morning. Silently, he led his Monstrous Nightmare Pokee down to the southern coast of the island. When they arrived, Flannigan finally spoke.

"You need to leave, Pokee. Fly away from here, back to the valley where the other Nightmares live. You know the way," Flannigan announced wearily. "I know you were happy there... and the other dragons liked you. They'll take care of you, bud. But you'll have to get used to eating your fish with their heads on, okay?"

His dragon tilted his head and frowned at him.

"I'm... going to live in the village. With other people," the man whispered, "and with a woman I met. Because dragons and people... weren't meant to live together."

Pokee let out a sad roar and nuzzled Flannigan's head insistently.

"Don't you see that this is best? You'll be with your own kind, and I'll be with mine," Flannigan brought a hand over his eyes, covering his tears. "Dragons and Vikings are enemies, not friends! I was – I was a kid, and I thought we were different, but we're not, and I can't fool myself any longer. I'm sorry, Pokee."

His dragon stood there, blinking his eyes.

"Go! Fly away! Go to the other dragons!"

Pokee did not budge.

"Goodbye, Pokee."

Flannigan turned around, picked up his sack of supplies, and walked away from his Monstrous Nightmare. He was five feet away, then ten feet, then he was on the other side of the beach, heading for the forest path that would take him to the Viking village. Pokee still had not moved, but he roared out to him desperately.

Flannigan paused but did not look back. He wiped away his tears, walked into the forest, and he was gone.

Many years passed. His fellow Vikings were a little slow to accept him, but accept him they did. It wasn't really the years of stolen fish that bothered them, but rather, the fact that he had held a friendship with a dragon for the greater part of his life. Flannigan was married to the fisher woman he had met one day by the river, the woman who washed his wounds and led him to the village. She taught him how to fish, and he made her laugh. For years upon years, they were happy.

And then one night, the Viking village was on fire. Dragons had come to the Isle of Berk, as per usual, and they were raiding the settlement and stealing whatever food they could find. Sheep were snatched up by Gronckles, huts were being melted by Deadly Nadders, and most all of the Vikings were keeping busy fighting off an enormous Timberjack. The Vikings were holding it off with catapults they'd constructed, launching a series of firebombs at the brute.

I said most all of the Vikings because there was one man who was not fighting the Timberjack. This unfortunate Viking had caught the attention of a savage group of Monstrous Nightmares, and they had chased him to the outskirts of the village, which happened to be where the man's hut was located.

The man was cornered by the beasts, his back against the very flammable wooden wall of his hut. Some Vikings had passed him, thinking he was a goner and they'd do better helping the other villagers under attack.

But before the Monstrous Nightmares killed the hairy man, one dragon stepped in front of the others. The Nightmare was like any other, with scarlet scales and black horns on his head, but this dragon was scarred and weary. He seemed older than the others, so the man could only assume he was in charge.

The cornered Viking reached a hand behind his back. Directly behind him was a barrel of fish and a hatchet he'd hung on the wall. The man sneered at the dragon.

"I'm not going down without a fight, you beast," he growled and grabbed for the hatchet. "Die, dragon!"

But he had not grabbed the hatchet from the wall. The man had accidentally snatched a fish from the barrel, and he'd swung the thing at the dragon. He groaned upon realizing his soon-to-be fatal mistake.

Except the dragon was actually backing away. The Nightmare was snarling at it, glaring at the fish's head, or more specifically, its beady black eye.

"...Pokee?"

The dragon cocked his head and smiled at him.

All the other Nightmares had backed off, watching their leader curiously. The lead dragon stood there, practically beaming at the man. Keeping his eyes on the dragon, the Viking slowly took the hatchet off the wall, cut the fish's head off, and tossed the rest of it to the dragon, who happily snatched it up.

"Pokee! It is you!" Flannigan dropped the hatchet and ran to his dragon, wrapping his arms around his stomach. Pokee roared with joy.

"I could never hurt you, bud. You know I couldn't," he whispered, letting the tears fall down his hairy face. "Oh, I've missed you."

Pokee eagerly licked his face, but made a disgusted face when he reached Flannigan's thick, ginger beard. The man had only grown beefier and burlier, and the old burns that covered his body had long since healed, leaving his skin charred and rough. Pokee could see in his eyes that his friend had grown tired and lonely.

"My wife and I were happy together," Flannigan quietly explained. "But the gods did not favor us. We never had a child, and then two years ago, she became very sick and... she passed away. I've been alone ever since, Pokee. I – I came to this village to be with people – to be with her – but now I have nothing left."

Pokee reached his head down and nuzzled him gently. Flannigan wrapped his arms around his dragon and wept like a child.

"I'm sorry for leaving you. I loved my wife and my time with her, but I... I missed you so much, Pokee. I just wasn't magnificent without you."

Flannigan wished he could have just stayed there with Pokee forever, but the Isle of Berk was still under attack by dragons, which meant that the men were still busy fighting the dragons off. From a good ways away, the Vikings manning the catapults and firebombs did not see a Monstrous Nightmare happily reuniting with his Viking friend. They saw a Monstrous Nightmare about to devour a helpless Viking.

"Aim at the beast!" the men shouted. "Fire!"

A burning bombshell was launched into the night. Flannigan's whole body frozen up when he saw it coming, and before he could yell a warning to Pokee, the firebomb struck his oldest friend.

The Vikings firebombs were built as round, earthen carcass shells, filled with tar and pitch, that were set ablaze when launched and, upon impact, stuck with massive force and exploded into flames. Pokee was hit square in his chest and was thrown through the wall of Flannigan's hut.

With their leader struck down, the other Monstrous Nightmares panicked and flew away as fast as they could. The Vikings at the catapult, thinking their work was done, turned to help the rest of the villagers.

"Pokee! Pokee, can you hear me?" Flannigan cried out, trying to see his friend in the ruins of his hut. The woodwork had caught fire, and it wasn't long before the whole roof collapsed in on the wreckage.

Everything was on fire, and Pokee was wounded from the impact and trapped beneath the fallen walls, wood beams, and burning thatch. He was inhaling smoke, and everything was becoming faint and blurry. Pokee struggled to free himself, but it was no good.

The flames were too hot for him to withstand, and everything was losing focus and fading to black. But Pokee smiled, because he'd gotten to see Flannigan just one more time.

And then the fiery woodwork and beams that covered him were lifted away, the debris was cleared off, and he was being pushed out of the burning wreckage by a man who had donned a very familiar suit of armor.

Flannigan's armor was on fire, and while was saving his dragon, he was also screaming in agony. There was barely any rust-colored paint left to absorb the fire, and his armor was red hot and scalding Flannigan's skin. Pokee's nostrils were filled with the smell of burning hair and flesh.

The dragon roared in protest and even tried to knock him away, but Flannigan just smiled through the pain and continued to push him to safety.

"Oh, Pokee," Flannigan whispered, "I would burn for you over and over again."

At last, they were away from the remains of his hut. Flannigan fell to the ground and rolled over, motionless. His armor was still scorching his skin, but to Pokee's dismay, he had stopped screaming. The man was barely breathing.

Weak as he was, Pokee grabbed his friend with his back claws and flew into the air. He struggled, but the dragon made it over the edge of the cliff, diving straight for the water below. They plunged in, and Flannigan's fire was instantly put out. When Pokee surfaced and swam them to a nearby shore, Flannigan's skin and armor were steaming.

Flannigan's eyes shot open. He gasped for air, then hastily removed the armor from his body, piece by piece. He was wet, his clothes were all burned away, and his skin had been left a deep, dark shade of red with splotchy patches of black and pink all over his body.

The last thing Flannigan saw before passing out was Pokee's worried expression. He lost consciousness with his dragon's sad roar still ringing in his ears.

When Flannigan awoke, he was lying in a shallow pool of water within a dark cave. The water felt good against his burned body, which, Flannigan noted, was looking quite a bit better. He must have been unconscious for days, because his skin was more of a charred red than a burnt black. His ginger hair and beard had burned away for the most part, but it would grow back, and eventually, his body would heal.

"Pokee... you saved me... my smart, kind, handsome dragon," Flannigan said weakly, seeing him standing guard at the mouth of the cave. Pokee roared back happily.

"You're right. We saved each other," he nodded. Flannigan struggled, but managed to pull himself up from the pool of water and onto his feet. Keeping his arm to the cave wall for support, Flannigan walked to his dragon's side.

"I'm never going to leave you again, bud," Flannigan smiled. "I may not be fireproof... but _we_ are. We're different from them, you and I. The Vikings can have their war with the dragons, but I want no part in it."

His dragon beamed at him and gently nuzzled his head.

"I've missed you, Pokee."

From that day on, the two of them were never apart. Flannigan turned his back on his fellow Vikings, and Pokee felt no desire to rejoin the other Nightmares. They had many fantastic adventures, of course, exploring the world beyond Berk and stealing fish from many different clans of people. The only company they ever needed was each other.

So whenever you hear about these fancy new dragon riders – befriending Night Furies, uniting Vikings and dragons on Berk, stopping evil conquerors and their armies of enslaved dragons, and all that shebang – and you think they're something special, just remember this: People and dragons have always held, and will always hold, a very special kind of friendship.

That, and Pokee and I did it all first, so please, give credit where credit is due. We may be old and wrinkled now, but my dragon and I are still the best of friends, and I couldn't imagine life without him.

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This one-shot story was an idea I'd had ever since I re-watched the first How To Train Your Dragon movie. When I saw the sequel, I just I had to write this. I don't think I'm going to write any more stories for How To Train Your Dragon after this one, though. I'm not extremely well-versed in HTTYD mythology and dragon facts, so if I got any minor details wrong, I apologize. I hope you enjoyed this story!**

**Thanks for reading! Reviews are always appreciated.**


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